Time Capsule: Thanks for the memory

Was it Bob Hope of yesterday who used the theme song, “Thanks for the Memory?”

Psychologists tell us memories are important clues to our well being, but some memories turn into dreams which are disturbing. Psychologist, you are probably right, but some of the dreams defy explanation.

I recall, as a child, my friend, Barbara Popp, and I dug a hole and buried autumn leaves in the hole. Each time we passed the hole, we bowed in respect. That memory trickles down at night before slumber slips in.

Another tale before sleep comes is a boy climbing the narrow steps of a water tower in Franklin Park, Ill. Before reaching the top of the stairs, the ambulance arrived on the scene in case he fell.

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A 10-year-old boy told me he dreams that he is Tarzan flying through the trees wearing his backpack. He’s looking for his girlfriend, but he can’t find her.

Then there was six-year-old Dennis who dreams about his early spanking because he painted his bedroom wall with turkey gravy.

My dreams are memories of Mother’s declarations:

“Your room is a mess. No one will marry you when you grow up.”

“Don’t keep that refrigerator door open – you’ll let all the cold air out.”

“Why can’t you be more like Charmaine (Charmaine was pretty and polite).

“Did you make your bed?”

“Did you use the new pillow you received for Christmas?”

“You will not get any Cracker Jacks unless that bed is made this morning!”

“Who do you think you are, Lady Jane?”

(Who is Lady Jane anyway?)

“Don’t talk back to me!”

Now those warnings and advice enter my dream life often.

I have an answer for you, Reader, about making the bed in the morning. It’s not fair to the bed!

As an adult, I remove my sheets and blanket in the morning, take them outside onto the patio and allow the breeze to revive the bed stuff. I make the bed at night and love the scent of fresh air. I’m told that some of my Pennsylvania Dutch friends do likewise.